by David Stone

Our guests had gone home, hours ago.
Dishes done, drying on the rack,
you lounged in one of our old chairs, 
reading God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.
A lamp hung a lemon umbrella above you.


Across the room, I sunk into Robert Lowell,
interrupting you all the time
to read out loud verses that stung me.
Rimsky-Korsakoff met
the rustle of summer at our window.


It was one, two, three, four a.m....
You started to say something.


If there was one thing more
in the world worth living for,
I didn’t know it.

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“I Can Ask”

Should Fay Christian’s Granddaughter Wait for an Answer as She Grasps for Air?

Eleanor Rivers Apr 3, 2026

Chair Fay Christian opened the Operations Advisory Committee on February 12th, reading out member names from a prepared sheet that omitted Melissa Wade. It didn’t feel intentional, but it struck me as odd precisely because it came from something prepared. Lydia Tang gently corrected her, noting that Wade was, in fact, a member of the committee. Wade met the moment with grace, or perhaps she simply wasn’t bothered by it.

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